


Electrocuted

by onebatch2batch



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, One of the many ways their reunion could go, Take Two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 13:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12960786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onebatch2batch/pseuds/onebatch2batch
Summary: Frank Castle finally forces himself to go to Karen's apartment, after.





	Electrocuted

**Author's Note:**

> All I want is for Karen Page and Jessica Jones to be best friends. Enjoy!

Frank Castle takes the stairs to Karen’s apartment for the first time in a long time. His face has healed nicely after the run in with Rawlins and the carousel. He’s dressed warmly for the weather, and his boots are heavy on the stairs. He’s been growing his hair out again, and his beard is nicely trimmed (which has undoubtedly caused more people to accuse him of being a hipster). He reaches lifts his hand to knock after a short pause, but it opens on its own and a dark haired woman nearly barrels into him.

“Hey watc—“ She stops, narrowing her eyes at him. A small, amused smile pulls at her lips. “Well, speak of the devil.”

 

Frank furrows his brows and looks over the woman’s shoulder to see Karen watching him, frozen in place. She looks well; her cheeks are slightly pink, and she’s wearing flannel pajama buttons and an old university pull over. Her golden hair is tumbled over one shoulder, and her lips are parted in surprise. “Uh, hey, Karen. Is this- uh, this a bad time?”

“I’m just leaving,” the dark hair woman purrs, pushing past him with a laugh. She waves a hand at Karen. “Bye Kar, remember what we talked about.”

“Bye Jess,” Karen says, maybe a little breathlessly. She clears her throat as Frank steps into the doorway, hesitating. It’s been a few months since he’s seen Karen, and he’s not even sure if she even wants to see him again. He rocks on the balls of his feet, then seems to remember what he’s carrying. He holds out the small bouquet of flowers a little sheepishly.

Karen bites out a laugh and steps forward to take them from him. “So no phone calls, no visits from you in months, and you show up without warning…with flowers.” She beckons him in and goes to find a vase, moving about the kitchen with energy buzzing through her. Frank leans against the counter, looking around. There’s a half drank bottle of scotch on the coffee table, and two empty glasses. The apartment is clean and light, and smells like her. He turns back to her and watches her rearrange the flowers in the vase. “So what’s the deal, Frank?”

He rubs a hand through his hair, shrugging noncommittally. “No deal. Who’s your friend?”

Karen shoots him a look, then moves over to sit on the couch, tapping the seat cushion next to her invitingly. “She’s a friend of a friend who become a friend to me. Jessica Jones.”

Frank shrugs off his coat and goes to join her on the couch. Karen’s pouring him a drink and hands it to him wordlessly, then makes one of her own. This close, he smells the alcohol on her breath, can see the dilation of her eyes. “She your drinking buddy?” he asks wryly, taking a drink.

“Ahh….” Karen smiles sweetly at him, “…you could say that.” She leans back against the arm of the couch, watching him over her glass. It’s not very often that another person can make him uncomfortable, but Frank is starting to feel as if he’s been placed under a microscope. He reaches out and lightly taps her knee.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, “for not…coming around. I’ve been making some changes, yeah?”

Karen tilts her head. Takes another long pull of her drink. Scoots a millimeter closer. “What kind of changes?”

Frank sighs, putting his glass on the table. He looks around the room, unwilling to meet her gaze. “I took a look at myself in the mirror,” he tells her, “And I…I realized some stuff.” He rubs a hand over his face, closing his eyes. “You were right, on the bridge that night. I never gave any thought to the After. Now that Frank Castle is officially dead and Pete Castiglione is alive, I had to find something that would last. I got—I got one of those construction gigs. Did it last time, too. Starting to, uh…go to meetings. With Curtis, I mean. It helps. I just wasn’t sure if-or, you know, when—to come see you. Didn’t know if you—“

Frank’s cut off when Karen’s lips find his. He stiffens, surprised, but feels himself melting into her grip quickly. He cradles her head gently with his hand, and places the other on the small of her back, drawing her to him. It’s not long before he realizes she tastes strongly of scotch, and he pushes at her shoulder carefully. Karen leans away, looking a little embarrassed but a whole hell of a little more determined than anything. “What’s wrong?”

“What are—you’re drunk,” he tells her, lips buzzing intensely. He feels like he’s been electrocuted—all his senses are on a livewire. He forces himself to take a deep breath. All her wants it to pull her back to him, but he know it’s wrong.

“I’m not that drunk,” she protests, but Frank cups her cheek lightly, and places his forehead against hers. Karen stills, putting a hand on his chest. They remain that way for a long moment, holding onto one another tightly. He feels her breath fan over his lips and turns his head slightly, heart beating steadily. This is where he wants to be. “Frank—“

“I want to do right by you,” he tells her softly. “None of this bullshit. Karen, I just—I need there to be an after.”

Karen leans back and beams at him, her eyes glassy. Her fingers find his and she squeezes them. Her whole face is lit up, and Frank decides that he would do anything to keep her this happy. Anything.

“Okay,” she whispers to him, like she’s sharing a secret.

Frank gives her a lopsided smile. “So, ‘speak of the devil’…can I assume that means you were talking about me?”

Karen laughs and leans back, brushing her fingers over the beard. All she says, glint in her eyes, is: “Maybe. You know, I was hoping you’d grow this out again.”


End file.
